


The Apartment on Callisto

by I_Dream_Of_Camaros



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bounty Hunters, Canonical Character Death, Cowboy Bebop: The Movie | Knockin' on Heaven's Door, Domestic Fluff, Drama & Romance, Drug Addiction, F/M, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Non-Canonical Plot Changes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Some Humor, Space Boys and Girls, Spaceships Are Cool, Spike Spiegel Is Not Dead (I'm in denial), Tags Are Hard, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 17:01:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Dream_Of_Camaros/pseuds/I_Dream_Of_Camaros
Summary: There is a thin line between reality and dreaming. One can't be sure as to what is real or what is simply happening in your head. Just because you can't tell which one is which, doesn't make any of it any less real. After all, if you can imagine it, it can become part of reality.Therefore, death is meaningless. It has no real hold over those who choose not to fear it.  So, it is better to live like you are in a dream, pretending that nothing has truly happened.And that's the story of how Jet Black ended up on Callisto, owning a shitty bar and sleeping in a crappy apartment. The events over the past four years were meaningless. They hadn't happen. Or had they?





	The Apartment on Callisto

**Author's Note:**

> I basically re-watched Cowboy BeBop and got emotionally destroyed all over again. 
> 
> Basically I changed some plot stuff around to the movie taking place before the crew disbands. Then I'm fast- forwarding a year after Episode 26. Just so you know how I'm doing this. 
> 
> Annnnnddd this was born so yeah lol

It was cold. It was always cold on Callisto. There was no surprise that it was cold or that snow was falling and dusting the streets. Men stood huddled around trash can fires, smoking cheap cigars and not speaking a word. The beggars and homeless stayed as warm as they could in back alleyways and blowing warm air onto their frigid hands. All in all, it was another day in Blue Crow, Callisto. A few stragglers entered a small, warm building that was nestled between two apartment complexes and an old abandoned factory plant. It was more or less a so-called 'bad' part of town. Yet, the small building with the bucket of rust spaceship parked on top was a safe haven for many who lived around or in the slums. The Bebop Inn was a small, shitty bar that served hard, bitter liquor and offered off-key music at the best. Though, it was still a good place in the dreary city. A flash of color to the otherwise gray and drab appearance of Callisto. Or maybe it was the owner that drew people to The Bebop Inn. A big fellow with a pointy beard and an antique cybernetic arm. He was always quick with a wild tale of bounty hunting and your first drink on the house. It was always warm and there was always something to drink, smoke and eat. Normally, The Bebop Inn was bustling with activity. You could normally hear rambunctious laughter and bad music pouring out of the bar and into the streets. But, not today. 

Today, there was no music or loud laughter to be heard as you walked past. The Bebop Inn was empty save for an old man passed out drunk on the counter and the owner drying out glasses. Jet Black had once had a life full of adventure and non-stop action. There was always something to be doing and even when there wasn't, it wasn't mundane. He set down a clean glass and sighed, leaning against the shelf counter. He closed his eyes, going back to those days. The days where he had thought he had everything he wanted. He had a ship, a job, and a family. Or at least the people he once considered his family. Sure, those days hadn't always been sunshine and rainbows and he had been hungry more times than he could count, but, it had been everything he needed. That's what he had told himself. Now, he realized that those days had just been a simple figment of his imagination.

Jet Black had never been a bounty hunter. After a horrible accident while working in the ISSP, he quit and retired to Callisto. He never met Spike Spiegel when the weirdo was trying to catch a ride from Mars. He never got a genius data dog named Ein. He never met Faye Valentine after that legendary showdown at a casino. He never met a strange kid named Radical Edward and surely he never was a cowboy who had been solar system hopping in hopes of that hit that would make him rich. And when he opened his eyes, he knew everything he had told himself was a lie. All of that had happened. Jet simply didn't want to remember. So, he had moved on, forgotten. It had all been some crazy dream. 

Jet had bought this old shack a year ago. He had fixed it up himself and turned it into just a safe place for the forgotten and unwanted to go. A place where people could forget their pasts and be whoever they wanted to be. That's what made The Bebop Inn so great, no one had to worry about anything and everyone was welcome. There was hardly ever any bar fights because everything could be fixed. Jet had dedicated his life to fixing everyone else's problems whilst ignoring his own. It wasn't healthy, but, nothing Jet had ever done could be considered as 'healthy.' The front door opened, a bell jingling lightly over it. Jet glanced up, his hand reaching for the gun he kept under the counter. It was a habit he hadn't been able to kick. He had become a bit paranoid from his cop and cowboy days. However, he relaxed when he saw who it was that had sauntered into the joint. 

Cipher Ilyich was a bounty hunter. A cowboy. He was some where in his mid to late twenties, he had never been bothered to remember exactly how old he was. Cipher had been born on Callisto and had never left it except to catch bounties. And even then, with all the places he saw, he always returned to the frozen satellite without much care. In fact, it was like clockwork. He'd leave sometime in June or July then return home on Christmas Eve. And so there he was, his brightly dyed pink hair sticking in odd directions as he pulled his hat off. His bright blue eyes shinning as a dash of freckles across his nose and cheeks gave him a boyish appearance. He was the only person that Jet had gotten close to in the last year. Jet knew even that was dangerous, but, Jet had never been a solitaire type. 

"Welcome back home, Ci..." Jet said, letting go of the gun.   
"Merry Christmas, Jet," Cipher said, walking up to the counter.

The cowboy sat down, unraveling his scarf from his neck and setting it on the counter. He smiled up at Jet, his dimples appearing. Cipher reached into his big puffy coat with a gloved hand and pulled out a small box and set it on the counter. It had been hastily wrapped in some purple paper and a bit orange bow slapped on top. Jet blushed slightly and picked up the gift delicately. 

"It's not Christmas yet," Jet stated, glancing over at Cipher.   
Cipher rolled his eyes. "It's close enough! Just open it!" He said, sounding a bit like a child. 

Jet chuckled. "Alright," he mumbled. 

He carefully peeled off the wrapping paper and took the top of the box off. He set the lid down then reached inside. Jet's eyes widened a bit when he pulled out a tiny, tiger-striped kitten. The kitten let out a tiny mewl and blinked it's brown eyes up at Jet. Jet quickly held the kitten against him, wanting to keep it warm. The kitten nuzzled into Jet's chest before reaching up a paw and batting at Jet's beard.

Cipher pulled off his gloves, his left hand was bionic but a much newer version. He smiled up at Jet. "I thought you might need some company when I'm gone. This old lady was selling them in this shop. She kept calling her dogs her 'babies'. I think she was a bit out of it. Anyways, I got this fella," he explained.

Jet leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to Cipher's lips. "Thank you," Jet whispered. 

The cowboy blushed and ran a hand through his pink locks. "Hey now, it's the least I can do, leaving you all the time," Cipher muttered. 

"You are here now. Come on, let's go home," Jet said, opening the cash box and taking out what he had made. 

Cipher huffed but smiled as he began pulling back on all the clothes he had shed. Jet grabbed his own scarf and put it in the box before settling the cat into it. He then pulled on his own coats and hats before picking up the box. Jet looked over at the sleeping drunk and shrugged. He'd just let him stay. Jet locked everything up before slipping a hand in Cipher's and walking to their apartment in silence. 

Once inside, Cipher shredded all his clothes except his pants. He then flopped down on an old blue couch and turned the TV on. Jet glanced up, almost expecting to hear an episode of Big Shot, however, it was just the news covering some medical lab story. Jet sighed as he pulled the cat out of the box and set him on the ground. He poured some milk into a bowl and set it on the ground. 

"What did you name it?" Cipher inquired, looking over to Jet. 

Jet walked over, lifting Cipher's feet before sitting down on the couch. He let Cipher put his legs over his lap. Jet leaned back, casting a look at the small kitten as it drank from the bowl. Jet sighed. "Oh, I don't know....How about...Mars?" 

"Mars? Hmm. Alright. Mars the Cat," Cipher said, smiling. 

Jet nodded and just studied Cipher as the younger male went back to watching the TV. He thought back to when he met Cipher. Jet had been walking down an alleyway when he found Cipher surrounded by some lowlife scum. Jet had helped him out, took him home and nursed his wounds. They bonded over their missing limbs and love of blues music. Jet had sent him packing with some bounty hunter tips and that should've have been the end of that. However, Cipher kept showing back up either at Jet's apartment or at The Bebop Inn. Jet couldn't lie about his attraction to the young cowboy or his loneliness. In a few months, Jet and Cipher had become some kind of thing. A relationship of some sort. Nothing serious. Just someone to come home too. And that was enough. It wasn't memorial like any of the others that Jet had loved. 

Cipher wasn't Spike. 

Jet closed his eyes, thinking back to nearly four years ago when Spike was at a port on Mars. His ship out of gas, he was penniless and had been leaning up against his Starfish, a cigarette hanging between his lips. In that suit with the tie loose. Jet let out a breath as he recalled the memory. If he had known all the trouble that Spike Spiegel was going to cause, he would have left his sorry ass back on Mars and never paired up with him. 

But, if he had left Spike there, he would have never had any of the memories Jet so desperately clung too. 

"Hey, you okay?" 

Jet was pulled from his thoughts as Cipher spoke. He offered his lover a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine." 

He leaned over and kissed Cipher, offering a grin. "I think the bedroom is much warmer," he said, offering a suggestive smile.

Cipher giggled and let himself be carried to the bedroom. It was easier for both of them to pretend everything was okay as they lived out their lives in a crappy apartment on Callisto.


End file.
